"No, you won’t say what others, because if you do claim you sold for others, here before witnesses, you know you’ll restore a good deal more money than you figured out to disgorge. Oh, you’re clever all right. Answer me—did you steal that ring?" "I did not," said Garraboy suddenly; "and I don’t know anything more about it than Beecher here—in fact, considerably less." He looked over with a sneer on his lips and then quickly and firmly exclaimed: "McKenna, my mind’s made up. I’m going out that door—now. If you attempt to prevent me, I’ll hold Mr. Beecher and Mr. Gunther here as witnesses that you kept me here by force. And I’ll have you up on—" All at once he seemed to choke on a word as his eyes, following the movement of the fist that struck the table, came suddenly in contact with the upturned sheet entitled: "GARRABOY, EDWARD V." The sight seemed to paralyze every muscle of his body. He sat down abruptly, drawing the document under his eye. "Take your time, Bracken, read it over carefully," said McKenna in a soothing voice. He retired to the fireplace and relaxed into the easy chair awaiting the moment. Garraboy read hastily, fairly galloping through the pages. Then he stiffened in his chair, frowned and read carefully through it all again, considering each phrase. At the last, the three who watched him saw him push the paper from him, lock his hands in front of him and stare at McKenna. The correct, insolent man of the world had faded; instead, before them, bare to the bone, was the rascal, the desperate, clever adventurer. Suddenly making a quick resolve, he said in a tone that surprised them for its absence of emotion: "Give me the paper I’m to sign." McKenna jumped up and going to a shelf took down an affidavit. "It is always a pleasure to deal with profession," he said genially, placing the document on the table. "Oh, read it first." Garraboy skimmed through it hastily, nodding. He took up his pen and paused. "It’s understood that the contents will never be made public, directly or indirectly, so long as I keep out of the United States?" "Understood." "Your word of honor on it as a gentleman, McKenna?" "My word." "And yours, too, Mr. Beecher, Mr. Gunther?" Each repeated the promise in turn. Garraboy signed the confession and handed it to McKenna. "What now?" "You will, of course, wind up your business immediately." "I will telephone for my clerk to bring my books here at once for your inspection. I will draw the necessary checks and have them deposited to the credit of my clients this afternoon. One of your men can personally assure himself that everything is right. Will that satisfy you?" "Couldn’t have proposed anything more practical," said McKenna, nodding. "What next?" "Clean up that matter of the ring." Garraboy rose impatiently, "I haven’t got the ring." "I don’t believe you." "Are you going to keep me under surveillance?" "I am." "Until when?"